


Not for the Want of Trying

by orphan_account



Series: The Eden Project [1]
Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, I thought I was going to hell before what happened, M/M, Underage - Freeform, a little bit forward with the whole tmi thing, and not in a happy way, discussions of rape, dystopian a/b/o society, illegal (technically) ‘sex trafficking’ rings, lots of graphic sexual content (?), lots of pointed a/b/o trope commentary, lots of pointed social commentary, mentioned social demi/grey/ace/infertility phobia constructs, not related for sake of plot, yes deltas are included
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:06:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3825067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At thirteen, the world turned around and told him that he could have whatever he wanted. It told him that there would be instincts that he couldn’t control, that he would have no responsibility for them, no consequences to meet.</p><p>It told him to claim and rape and belittle those who didn’t meet his standards, weren’t up to par, because that was their lot in life, just as his lot was to be seen as an all-powerful, terrifying beast of an alpha.</p><p>Even at thirteen, Tadashi Hamada had looked the world in the eyes, and loudly told it to go fuck itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Swallowed Hard, Like I Understood

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter told me to write this weeks ago. 
> 
> And you know what okay I’m up for this challenge. I’m also very angry tonight. So yeah enjoy my social commentary wrapped into fanfiction. I love ya’ll but some of the tropes we all love are fucked so I hope you’re taking notes. This was a good catharsis.
> 
> Much thanks to Annie and Caity, who read through this very excitedly and told me that this fic was the one they’d always wanted. Couldn’t have gotten this mess together without the both of them. <3

**Note: I’m sure most of you are familiar with the whole alpha/beta/omega thing. It’s a popular enough trope these days. Please be mindful that it’s…rules and limitations are a bit loose, and I’m basically playing with it from a dystopian perspective. A/B/O dynamics (bless them) are not something I think is particularly desirable as a social construct, so be prepared for me to paint a pretty dark picture that doesn’t romanticise the notion in the slightest.**

 

* * *

 

**Love.**

**Means nothing to me,**

**‘Cause I don’t know what it is.**

 

* * *

 

 

It’s almost alarming how things can change so quickly in the course of ten minutes. Clearly, he’d been having a few too many late nights at the labs. Or perhaps it was the caffeine that was the problem; too much of it could have some dangerous side effects. Or perhaps…?

Tadashi went through the scenario several times in quick succession, feet firmly cemented to the ground and head cocked, as if listening for a far-off noise only he could hear. He tried to explain it away, seeking out the different angles that could explain what had led up to this, but found himself impossibly barred at every turn.

The walk home from the corner shop yielded nothing out of the ordinary. His aunt’s café was constantly running out of things, and it was somewhat natural for him to be found wandering back this way every evening, politely deflecting her protests that she be the one to do it. It simply wasn’t safe for her; an unclaimed beta walking down the street at sundown alone.

Politely avoiding contact with those who smelt distinctly different from himself wasn’t out of character either; betas and omegas had enough problems without another alpha on the street taking the time to size them up, reciprocated interest or not.

The time of day was normal. The amount of pedestrians on the sidewalk- normal. He was 22, not ten, and hormonal balancers and Beta blockers weren’t medications that he required at this stage; so it wasn’t some odd imbalance of a mixture of beta blockers wreaking havoc in his systems.

Taking all of that into account, all the normalcy and predicted routine, there’s absolutely _zero reasoning_ as to why he’d do something completely _insane_ and simply dump the groceries on the sidewalk, taking off down a nearby alleyway at a dead run like he was following some sort of internal compass that had suddenly decided to point north and _pull._

Absolutely none at all.

The alpha across from him is aggressive, even after the initial shock of Tadashi skidding to a halt in front of him with hackles raised; a big bear of a man, all fat and muscle. His lips bare in a snarl, and Tadashi felt his own lips parting in turn, the noise that escapes him loud and ugly and _dangerous._ He is not an ugly person. He’s not a dangerous person, either, nor is he stupid enough to randomly decide to tackle a man of this size on his own.

But he’s got one eye on the brute in front of him and the other on the tiny creature hiding behind his outstretched arms.

It’s pathetic and disgusting how the scent that led him here- full of fear and desperation and _please, please oh god **help me-**_ belongs to a child who hasn’t even hit maturity. There’s no distinct marking scent to the boy, clearly not even old enough to have hit his first heat; his tiny frame says he’ll be a beta, at best. Tadashi can’t quite make out his face from this angle, and when the other alpha shifts, he’s reminded of the fact that there’s bigger things to worry about.

Trying not to get torn to shreds seems about right.

“ _Gentleman!_ ” A sharp voice barks from the entrance of the alleyway, diffusing the situation before it can begin to escalate, and Tadashi’s relief is almost palpable. He keeps a wary eye on the other alpha as a woman marches towards them, all crisp black suit and clacking heels, flanked on either side by two men who look distinctly more capable in a fight than Tadashi feels. Alphas, all three of them, and he has no doubt that one wrong move could find him in a world of trouble- more than he’s already found himself.

“Yama, we appreciate your interest in our goods, but we have rules. You pay to play.” The alpha he’d been confronting from the start growls, and Tadashi rumbles right back as he takes a few steps back, herding the child safely away from the _monster_ in front of him until there’s only just enough space between him and the wall for the tiny, quivering body to fit. Pay to play…

Pay. To play?

“Another outburst such as this one, and we’ll have no other choice but to ban you from future events.” She continues without preamble, hip cocked to the side with an air of utter confidence and control. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask to to leave.”

After a moment of tense silence, the one dubbed as ‘Yama ‘snorts and relaxes his posture, if only slightly. Pointing a fat finger accusingly in Tadashi’s direction, his words are as ugly as his tone, gritted out from between clenched teeth. “I will have you.”

He’s not talking to Tadashi. Lumbering back down the alleyway, the man bumps shoulders roughly with one of the three, and rather pointedly, the two males of the trio follow him down. In that moment, Tadashi looks behind him and meets a set of the biggest brown eyes he’s ever seen.

He’s so...

Tiny. The threadbare hoody and the red shirt underneath aren’t a good fit for someone his size, the collar large enough to droop down over his shoulder and show off a large amount of skin; the curve of his neck and junction of his shoulder, vulnerable places that shouldn’t be out on display on such a small, fragile looking kid. Had anything happened, that would’ve gone against him.

Even Tadashi finds himself consciously considering the fact that… the first thing he’d noticed was the boy’s state of dress, rather than the fact that he’s dealing with a small child who was almost bent over against a brick wall. There’s not much else he can do but kick himself for it, hesitating long enough to lose any chance Tadashi has of asking if he’s okay.

Up close and facing the child head-on with nostrils flared, it’s obvious. _Omega. Shit._

“Hiro.” The word doesn’t hold any meaning to him, but to his temporary charge, it’s enough to pull a flinch from his frame as he sneaks around Tadashi without so much as a word, obediently allowing the woman to draw him close with a heavy hand. A thin lipped smile crosses her face, and she holds a card out to Tadashi, flicking it towards him rather than waiting long enough for him to gather himself and step forwards to collect it.

“Tell them you’re the 20% off-er next round.”

It’s funny how ten minutes can be the most confusing of his life. But the true irony doesn’t hit until he picks up her card, and reads what it actually says.

**Yakuza Girls: Omega Bot Fights.**

 

* * *

 

When Tadashi was eleven, he saw a knot for the first time. Alphas mature at a faster rate than betas and omegas, for the first part, and it wasn’t unusual for their year to start getting sex education on just what it meant to see the base of your dick bulging out at twice the girth as the rest of you was, a distinct, unpleasant shade of purple. 

His first opinion on knots was that they looked pretty angry. As for the rest of it; the more scientific way the teacher was trying to explain things to them went completely over his head. They’d smell things differently. Okay. They’d have instincts and urges they were unused to. Sure.

But there was something about the talk that unsettled him, even if he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Looking around the room, he hadn’t understood why other students (usually the smaller ones; the frailer ones. The pacifists) were staring down at their desks. He didn’t understand why one girl had to be escorted out of the classroom in tears.

It’s amazing, what sort of things you can tell a small child and have them grow up influenced by.

And its talks like that which allow things like Omega Bot Fighting to exist.

Tadashi rubs at his face for what feels like the thousandth time that night, squinting at the computer screen. There’s a video playing, volume low but the sounds more than distinct enough to be heard. Clashes of steel and metal that grind and cut against each other, the cheers and jeering of the crowd.

Bot Fighting is illegal. But Omega Bot Fighting takes that unlawfulness and turns it up by eleven. There’s no cash prize at the end of the fight; not for the challenger. It’s a test of brazen temptation and an easy way to line the pockets of people ruthless enough to pick up young omegas and put them on show, forcing them to fight until they’re beaten. Forcing them to fight just so they won’t be taken home.

You fight your omega and you win them. Simple.

Hiro, as it turns out, is popular enough to have plenty of videos online. Always dressed provocatively; always sitting cross legged, head held high not in a show of self-confidence, but to show his challengers just what they get to _sink their teeth into_ if they win him.

It’s both satisfying and disgusting to see how many times the boy has beaten that alpha from the alleyway.

He’s a very smart kid, that much Tadashi can see for himself. He doesn’t play the same game as the others; regardless of his status as an omega-to-be, he grins, he cat-calls, and he tears the opposition up with the ease of someone who actually knows what he’s doing. What little information Tadashi’s been able to find past the videos; in the comments, or less than desirable forums, he’s somewhere between twelve and fourteen- and the bot he’s using is hand made.

That last piece of information takes two hours to locate, amidst the rather generic and all too common posts about what most people wanted to do to him once he was bent over.

In the ring, Hiro’s cocksure. It’s a complete opposite of the tiny thing that had scented **_fear_** so strong that it had called Tadashi to him from five blocks away, and if Tadashi was going to trust anything, it was his scent. Hiro looks confident, and that’s about as far as it goes. Skin deep.

It takes two videos for Tadashi to see the fatal flaw in his bot, and that’s only because it moves so fast. If the alpha had to take a good guess...he’d say that the omega had yet to go against anyone who actually knows their way around Callaghan’s Laws of Robotics.

Someday, he would. Someday, he’d get unlucky. Either in the ring or on the streets, on a day where there’s no alpha around who picks up his scent and drops everything to keep him safe. Hiro’s a ticking time bomb of potential misery, and at 2am, it seems pretty simple to make the decision to turn that potential for disaster into something that just might save Hiro’s life.

As Tadashi pulls some engineering paper towards himself and starts to design the machine he’ll use to save Hiro’s life, he can’t help but wonder just what one was supposed to wear to an illegal omega trafficking ring.

 

* * *

 

Not what he decides to wear, is the answer.

Finding the details on the next meet up is laughably easy, and Tadashi would be a little more cautious about the cops showing up if he thought they actually cared. The loud, overly boisterous crowd that spills right out of the alleyway and into the main street assures him that he needn’t care about such things.

It smells. And not just because of the press of bodies in such a small place; the people running the show know what they’re doing, right down to the scent the potential prizes are wearing. Even without the distinct chill to the air, none of them are dressed appropriately- and one, kind smile at the first omega to approach offering refreshments is enough to have them all steering clear of his person.

There’s no such thing as true kindness in an environment like this.

Pre-registration is required for the fights; and there’s only one omega Tadashi’s prepared to fight for. It means waiting around for a long while, looking at the faces of all the others who need saving, and knowing that, no matter his good intentions, he can’t save everyone.

The first omega to lose their fight is dragged off screaming. She can’t be over thirteen. He closes his eyes until the next fight is called, and the sounds of a fight begin again.

Tadashi feels utterly out of place here. It’s not his clothes; there’s plenty of others in the crowd wearing a similar set of basic jean and shirt attire, complete with caps on their heads. A few have gone to even more drastic measures and covered their faces with balaclavas, but at the end of the day, those are the ones who seem to call out the most.

_Get ready to bend over, sweetheart._

_Can’t wait to get that belly full._

_My knot is going to tear your asshole wide open, gorgeous._

 

Alphas will be alphas. Like they always say.

 

He doesn’t belong here. And two hours of leaning up against a wall is torture, but Tadashi reminds himself of why he’s here, over and over again. Whenever any of the fights are laughably short; whenever another omega screams for help, he reminds himself why he’s here.

Just the once. Just one time, and he never has to come back to this. Neither will Hiro.

“Baymax? We got a fighter out there under Baymax?” Tadashi perks up at the call, barely heard over the constant chatter and yells about him. To the side of the ring is a rather bored, pudgy looking man, with no scent to distinguish him from the stall or wall behind him. Delta?

It’s hard to say, with the assault his nose is under, but when Tadashi approaches he makes sure to smile politely, anyway. The man raises a brow and blows a cloud of smoke into his face.

“You got the cash?”

“Uh- yeah. I was told to say that I was the 20 percent off-er? She gave me her card-” Tadashi fumbles in his pockets for a moment, until he’s waved down.

“Nah, I heard a’ you. Puppy alpha.” Puppy alpha..? Tadashi does his best not to look insulted, patiently waiting as a few notes are jotted down into a dirty book that’s seen about as many better days as the man before him. “It’s two seventy-five, with the discount. No bombs, no flares. No jumping at the omega; you try break the merchandise, you don’t play again. Got it?”

 

Merchandise.

 

“I got it.” Tadashi’s voice is clipped, which raises an uninterested brow as the man holds out his hand, palm up. Exchanging money just to fight someone over their freedom...feels tawdry. Dirty.

But he’s starting to get used to that feeling.

“There’s two contestants before you, but stay close to the ring. You aren’t ready for your round, we skip you. No retry. No refund.” He’s waved away before he even gets the chance to say thank you. At a loss for thoughts, Tadashi does as told, staring blankly at the ring until a familiar enough scent makes his head whip upwards, meeting wide, brown eyes the moment he does.

“Our next contestant; the one you’ve all been waiting to sink your teeth into, _Hirooooo!_ ”

The crowd goes wild, and Tadashi has to clench his fist to fight back the urge to snarl.

There’s two fights before him. Tadashi grits his teeth and pretends he isn’t nervous, because this is the point where everything could fall apart. There’s no guarantees that Hiro won’t lose to someone before him, though the boy’s first challenger really isn’t much of a challenge, from his scrappy bot to the unsteady way he’s holding himself. Drunk.

If concentrating on the fight is bad enough, concentrating on Hiro is worse. Everything about him caters to the alphas surrounding him. His clothes. The shampoo and products he’s used. The way he holds up his head. Even the way he sits, forced down into a cross-legged position through the rough handling of a few traffickers, almost, but not quite exposed.

Everything about him has been catered to make an alpha want him. And the worst part is that it’s working, a fact that makes Tadashi’s throat close up as he fights with an almost unnerving wave of nausea.

He’s desirable. He’s unbeatable; almost too perfect a toy to boost products, and Tadashi--

 

Can’t. He can’t leave him here.

He’s just a child.

 

Luckily for him, his anxieties are for naught. Hiro doesn’t just beat both alphas; he _wipes the floor with them._ It’s something to see firsthand, that’s for sure; cameras don’t pick up the subtler things. Like the way Hiro’s expression grows almost bored the moment the fights start, how at ease he is with it all; with the taunts, with the sexual provocations. Out of the corner of his eye, Tadashi swears he can see someone unzipping their pants, blatantly waving themselves in the boy’s direction.

He doesn’t turn to get a proper look. Sometimes, it’s better to remain unsure.

“Our next challenger; Baymax!” And then it’s his turn. He steps up to the cushion that’s been set on the ground, Hiro’s eyes burning a hole in his head as he seats himself in a similar manner to Hiro, and unlike the previous fighters, he doesn’t make an ass of himself, doesn’t make any overconfident statements. The vulgarity of the situation is left to the people around them to create, and Tadashi focuses on setting his bot out; a tiny, white blob of a thing that looks more like a walking marshmallow than a fighter bot.

Baymax’s appearance gets a few titters out of the spectators.

“The fuck is this puppy?”

“Look at him; a new’in if I ever saw one. Hiro’s going to clean up.”

He looks up at Hiro and cracks the tiniest of smiles. Causing people to raise their brows at him seems to be his gift of the night, however, and there’s no smile in return; just a slightly calculating expression as the boy looks over his bot and starts taking it apart in his head.

Lord, but he’s _smart._ And this is where that intelligence got him.

“Bot fighters, ready-!” The warning call breaks through his thoughts, jolting him back into the present and reminding him exactly why it is he’s here. Not to stare at a child and admire how intelligent they may seem to be, that’s for sure. Whether or not that was a genuine allure to Hiro...he had to ignore those sorts of things, right now.

Tadashi takes a deep breath, fingers resting lightly over the shock pads covering Baymax’s controls, and waits. Hiro slouches slightly, bored again, and his stomach twists.

“ _Fight!_ ”

Neither of them makes a move, at first. They move, but they don’t _move-_ Hiro’s bot skirts around the outskirts of the ring like some sort of metallic snake, and Tadashi responds by having Baymax toddle more towards the middle, constantly following the path- what was it, Megabot?- is making. It’s a dance their viewers become bored of very quickly.

“ _What the fuck is this shit_?!”

“Just take the fucking pillow out already!”

Hiro’s lips twitch upwards, which is the indication he’s waiting to see. Megabot zigzags towards Baymax with every intention of striking, and Tadashi almost winces as he throws up Baymax’s hands, and flicks the switch.

Abruptly, two segments of Megabot fly into Baymax’s hands, trapped against the magnetic field being projected by components in his palms. The remaining section spins angrily across the floor; the abrupt shift of positive and negative fields throwing it into erratic motions that Hiro can’t control. And he’s trying. Lord, is Hiro trying.

The boy leans over his controls and starts flicking every switch known to man, but there’s no escaping this.

“I’m sorry.” Tadashi murmurs, and those big, brown eyes- those eyes, that keep staring at him like he’s some impossible machine that’s incapable of being understood, watch in horror as Baymax lowers the two pieces down to the ground, and uses his ridiculously overpowered actuators to crush them against the ground. Technically, not cheating- but not everyone has access to state of the art laboratories to create such components.

And just like that, it’s over. Hiro’s got nothing, even as Tadashi flicks the magnetic fields off. There’s howls from the audience; people lamenting their chance lost, and others crowing over the very idea of how badly Hiro’s ass would be wrecked, later on.

Tadashi doesn’t have any attention to give them. He stares across the ring at the small, tiny boy who brought him here in the first place, and his heart rips in two at the expression of utter betrayal on his face as he stares down at the broken mess that was his bot...his one, tiny vestige of safety.

Utter betrayal from the boy who is, technically, his property now.

Tadashi owns him.

“And the winner is- _Baymax!_ ”

And just like that, he’s won.

 

Funny; it doesn't feel like he's won anything.

 

 

* * *

 

 So A/B/O dynamics is a trope I both love and—really, really hate.  I hate that, most of the time, A/B/O comes across as quick fix to rip out the character’s humanity with ‘instincts’ and make it neither the dominant or submissive’s fault that they literally HAVE TO BANG NOW RIGHT NOW BANGING IS HAPPENING NOW. It reads in very scary ways and perpetuates some real life aspects of our culture whilst blatantly erasing some other things, so uh….I hope you enjoyed this.


	2. The Road to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s not acting...selfless, when it comes to Hiro. He wants the omega to be free, but he wants to be a part of every single step of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I think the most wonderful feeling any author can have, no matter their skill level or the amount of works they’ve published, is when you stop writing the story, and the story starts writing you. The majority of this chapter did that to me, and the result is… amazing. I am so utterly pleased with this chapter, let me tell you.
> 
> So honestly the feedback on this has just been amazing; not one of you hasn’t been excited by the world that’s being explored, and quite a few people have been kind enough to let me know that they gave this fic a chance just because they trusted me to give it a better spin than the tropes contained usually do. Thank you so much, for that! Every comment, bookmark, kudos and hit are so humbling- I can’t believe how many of you have given this one a shot!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

 

**You think you have the best of intentions**

**I cannot shake the taste of blood in my mouth.**

* * *

_“Number, sixty, four.”_

Tadashi avoided the council buildings where he could. At some point in San Fransokyo’s short history, someone had decided that keeping several government services separate was just no good. Things should be more streamlined; more readily available. Twenty-four hour services at the mere price of people’s threadbare sanity and patience as they waited for the twenty people ahead of them to get their license, register their cat, pay their speeding fine, order their birth certificate, pay the rates-

He wasn’t quite old enough to remember the old system, but Aunt Cass was quick to lament over it, given the chance. Yeah, you had to walk an extra block to do the things you had to do, she said. But at least when you went to do them you knew whoever was handling your transactions had the experience to do it.

But that was progress. Less employees, less experience. Longer wait times.

And Hiro won’t stop kicking the legs of his chair. It makes a dull thunk every time his heel connects with the thin metal, sending vibrations right through the seat and into Tadashi’s own.

“Hiro.” The quiet murmur of his name has the omega stopping for all of a minute before starting up again. He closes his eyes as his whole body shakes from the force being put into it, reaching out and clasping the teen’s knee in what he hopes comes across as a simple, hindering gesture, not a threat.

The way the boy stiffens under his touch says otherwise.

“Hiro, stop. I know it’s boring, buddy,” Terrifying. Waiting in a queue for his turn to watch someone claim his very person as theirs under law. “But we’re almost up. Just…sit still for a few minutes, alright?”

He doesn’t get a single word in return, but Tadashi’s expecting that. He hasn’t gotten one since he took Hiro’s papers from the announcer’s hands. Hasn’t ever heard a sound from him before, now that he thinks about it.

For the millionth time, Tadashi finds himself wondering what, exactly, he thinks he’s doing.

Last night had been excruciating. It was humiliating to stand there and wait for someone to fill out paperwork signifying that he’d fought for Hiro and won; a right by dominance certificate that technically, was supposed to indicate he’d fought with another alpha. Not a tiny child trying to survive in an illegal bot circuit. A legal document with a dirty loophole, one that made places like this all the more attractive. Stuffing it into his back pocket without looking over the contents didn’t make it burn any less; especially when Hiro couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from trailing after it, expression mutinous.

 

They took his bot off him; insult on top of injury, and Tadashi was certain more than one unfortunate soul would find themselves handling it in the future.

 

On the way home, Hiro made a break for it _eight times_. He’d been counting. The alpha couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting the first few attempts; it was written in the set of Hiro’s shoulders, in the way his eyes had darted into every dark corner, every possible hideaway, every fence low enough for him to consider attempting to leap over- and every time, Tadashi had caught his wrist before he went more than a few feet.

There was no joy in it. Every time he caught Hiro’s hand he could see that fire in him flaring up a little more; that struggle between fearful complacency and that rigid intelligence which was probably the only thing that had kept him in one piece, up till this point. Every street light they went under made his skin glow. Every glance that angled his face towards the moon made his eyes shine.

He was small, and attractive, and an omega. And the urge was there; to let him go, to let him run.

To give chase.

And all of those feelings culminated into a frustration that had him dragging Hiro close on the eighth attempt and pushing his face into his neck, just for the irrational _finality_ with which he stopped his struggles.

Millions of years ago, scientists had theorised, his hearing would have been acute enough to hear the rapid pounding of his heartbeat.

Except that those sorts of theories weren’t nearly close to being socially acceptable. No one liked to be told that their ancestors were dogs. Not even as they turned around and treated certain casts like that’s exactly what they were.

If he’d bitten down, it would’ve been the only show of dominance he’d have to make. Hiro’s instincts would do the rest. No more fighting.

_“Number, sixty, five.”_

He’d spent the night on the couch. His apartment; a far easier commute to SFIT, wasn’t laid out for two people. Kitchen/lounge, bathroom, tiny laundry. Queen sized bed. Tadashi hadn’t had the heart to steal away that sort of comfort from Hiro; he’d sort something out in the morning, he’d mentally assured himself. With the meagre savings he had from being a freelance repair man back in his Aunt’s neighbourhood, coupled with whatever shifts he could wrangle the time for in the cafe. He needs clothes. He needs a bed. He needs things that belong to him.

 He needs sleep, but that’s a commodity neither seems to acquire much of. Tadashi leaves the bedroom door open, just in case Hiro decides to take a leap out of the bedroom window; despite the fact that they’re five stories up. Hiro tosses and turns, and more than once, Tadashi sits up to peer over the back of the couch, only to see two eyes staring back at him from the bed.

 Surprising that he hasn’t tried to make a run for it this morning, but maybe he was just too tired to fight…

 Fingers pluck at his sleeve, pulling Tadashi out of his thoughts and back to the present, where Hiro stares up at him with a raised brow. The alpha stares back, completely at a loss until the boy jerks his head towards the front of the room and the large screen above them, number 159 flashing in bold red lettering. They’re up.

Stomach twisting violently, Tadashi mentally checks off everything in his mind as he heads over to the counter. He’d printed the form out online this morning; he’s got sufficient ID and the...right by dominance certificate he’d obtained from the fighting ring hidden beneath everything else. It’s fine. He’s fine. Hiro’s dragging his feet behind him, but the omega is fine, too.

Reaching the counter window, he offers a nervous smile to the staff member; a thin lipped woman with a shock of red hair (dyed recently, if the way his nose complains is anything to go by); a stark contrast to the grey blouse hanging off her frame. She doesn’t smile back.  
  
“How can I help you?” Maybe he’s not fine.  
  
“Ah, good morning- I need to...register an omega.” She taps something into the computer before her, what little he can see of the screen taken up by an old DoS program.  
  
“Have you filled out the paperwork?”

“Yes, here, this and-” He places the sheets of paper in front of her, hand flying to his pocket and pulling out his wallet. “And my licence-”

 “One moment, sir.” She holds a hand up, pulling the form towards herself and squinting down at it; because of his handwriting, or failing eyesight? Marie, he notes absently. Her nametag says Marie.

 He watches in silence as her finger runs down the page, and Marie licks her thumb before turning to the next one. It’s funny how slouching against a wall and watching omegas being dragged away screaming was almost preferable to this, standing stock still with his licence held up uselessly in the air as his eyes follow the trailing of her finger.

 When it taps against the page, he practically leaps out of his skin. “Hiro was the name given to him by prior caretakers? Section 6 allows you to change his name, you know; it’s free during initial registration, but it’ll cost a further sixty after two months.”

 Tadashi feels like his tongue is glued to the top of his mouth, a strangled answer escaping him after a few moments.

 “I don’t want to change his name, thank you.” Marie hums at his answer, clearly dubious, before her finger jabs at the next box down.

“He’ll still require a last name.”

A glance at the omega beside him reveals that Hiro’s much too busy inspecting his nails to look back.

“Hamada.” Tadashi answers reluctantly. Hiro might not even _have_ a last name; and if he does, it’s obvious that its information he’s not willing to share. Hamada’s the only name Tadashi has to give, like it or lump it.

“Okay; and date of birth?” She jots down Hamada for him in a neat cursive that puts his own penmanship to shame, glancing up at him expectantly. “If he doesn’t have a birth certificate, you can choose a date for him.”

 

_He has a name._

“I’m not choosing Hiro’s date of birth.” Tadashi can feel himself bristling somewhat; she hasn’t even tried to ask the boy these questions. Hasn’t even looked his way.

“That’s fine, sir; but we’ll have to put today’s date down until you acquire a doctor’s certificate verifying a more precise date.” She’s jotting it down before he can even protest, pen pausing over the year. “Age, sir?”

He has no idea.

This is why he’d left those parts blank in the first place; to see if he could request some process to have Hiro identified. Maybe have his details run through a Missing Persons database, on the miniscule chance that there was a loving family out there, missing him.

It hadn’t been an option on their website; and it wasn’t an option now, either.

What exactly did they think people did here? Register slaves, or life partners? He swears adopting Mochi had been a more gruelling process than this…

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know.” He sighs. “Thirteen? Maybe fourteen; not older than that.”

Hiro’s still staring at his nails; staying put, at least, but entirely unwilling to join the conversation, even as Marie finally turns her head his way to squint her eyes at his face. He looks about twelve, if Tadashi’s really honest with himself. Part of that might be malnourishment, but even then, looks could be deceiving. Boys are notoriously late bloomers when it comes to physical appearance, but Hiro would take longer than an alpha would. He could easily hit his early twenties before he was finished maturing.

All Tadashi can go off of for Hiro’s age was his scent. It has a sharp tang to it even now, but it’s not fertile.

“Has your omega ever been in heat?”

“No.”

“Fourteen then.” Marie purses her lips as she jots that down as well, pen flying across the boxes labelled OFFICE USE ONLY, still absently explaining things as she goes. It’s obvious that she knows what she’s talking about; plenty of experience in these kinds of registrations...just none in customer service. “Again, you’ll need a doctor’s certificate to change his date of birth. Considering the age bracket he looks to be part of, it’s a good idea to have him be assessed anyway. You’re responsible for any circumstances regarding a sudden onset of heat, including any legal repercussions, medical expenses, or property damage. Licence, please.”

The rest of the transaction is quick. The paperwork is stamped and details tapped into the computer before Hiro’s pulled to the left for a photo, Tadashi signing some clause or another to confirm that this really is...Hiro. The paperwork is stamped before Hiro’s fingerprints are taken, black ink smearing over clenched fists when it’s all over with. Another signature; this time on a declaration which binds Tadashi to ensuring Hiro’s physical, mental and emotional wellbeing, even if in reality the document is utterly meaningless. Once they walk out the door, no one will check on them.

“He’ll need to have this on him at all times when he’s not with you.” A proof of age card is held out to him, Marie’s thin lips finally pulling up into a meaningless smile. “You can also visit the MyCollar site for a microchipped collar tailored to your tastes; there’s pamphlets by the door.”

“Right…” A collar. Tailored to his tastes. “Thank you.”

“Have a nice day.”

He steers Hiro out of the building as quickly as he can without breaking into a run, hardly daring to breathe until he feels sunlight hit his face and a light breeze picking up. His omega is stiff under his hold, face carefully blank and scent an almost repugnant mix of so many different things to react to. Hold him or back off? Intrude on his thoughts or leave him in silence?

His omega. Legally.

But since when had legalities mattered all that much?

They walk down the street in silence, one that Tadashi foolishly labels as oppressive, even as he struggles to find a way to break it. It’s coming up to the sixteenth hour of Hiro being in his care; a grand total of four days since their first encounter… and he’s yet to hear a single sound out of the other’s mouth.

For all Tadashi knows, Hiro could be a mute; is it natural, for someone to make not so much as a grunt for this length of time?

He doesn’t know. For someone that’s usually confident in their own emotional intelligence, that’s frightening. Hiro’s frightening; a tiny boy who the alpha can’t help feeling an overwhelming urge to protect; to keep close. And despite the firm hold he’s keeping on his shoulder?

Tadashi’s can feel the ever expanding canyon between them; a gaping hole that sucks away any hope of reaching some kind of mutual understanding with each other. He’s never felt so far away from someone in his life.

 

* * *

 

 

With all the good memories he has of growing up in a loving household, there’s bound to be some bad ones, as well. And the more Tadashi had grown, the wider his world had expanded; beyond the realm of bee stings and scraped knees.

Most of them had to do with his aunt; and not because she’d intentionally caused them to. Cassandra Flynn wasn’t just his foster parent, or a distant relative who’d felt obligated to take him in after his parents sudden deaths; she was a second mother in every sense of the term.

And she’d fought tooth and nail to keep both her reputation and her nephew in spite of her own hardships; which simply meant that, whenever her face lit up at the sight of him… it was a solid reminder that he was always welcome _home._

Midday wasn’t the best time to drop in so suddenly. All of the tables in the cafe are occupied when he opens the front door, gently nudging Hiro inside ahead of him before following after. There was the usual blend of regulars and new customers, a multitude of voices echoing off the high ceilings into a pleasant clamour that steals most of the tension out of his shoulders.

When aunt Cass beams at him from behind the counter and waves her hand towards the stairs, the one he gives her in turn is just as genuine, and perhaps a little relieved.

“Upstairs, buddy.” He says at Hiro’s curious glance. Unsurprisingly, the omega complies without a word, keeping his head down under the weight of curious gazes from customers who have known Tadashi since he was small. Tadashi nods to each of them in turn, making it clear that he won’t be making time for idle (nosy) conversation as he takes the stairs two at a time, keeping on Hiro’s heels.

The last thing he needs is his omega making mischief in his family home; and if he’s honest with himself, he really doesn’t know enough about Hiro to give him that sort of trust, just yet.

Eventually, he mentally concludes with a resigned sigh. Eventually; hopefully sooner rather than later.

“That lady behind the counter is my aunt Cass; she was my parent’s partner before they died.” Hiro doesn’t bat an eyelash at the news; he wouldn’t, of course. Three partner relationships weren’t nearly as uncommon these days as they had been when his parents had first gotten together- and parents in general wasn’t likely to be the boy’s favorite subject. “I grew up here; we’ll probably spend the next few nights in my old room, actually. At least it’s got enough beds for both of us.”

It’s an entirely one-sided conversation, but Tadashi doesn’t allow that to deter him, watching Hiro’s gaze sweep the room. Either he’s hiding his curiosity, or he’s genuinely disinterested.

“We’ll have some lunch soon once aunt Cass comes up, but how about some TV, bud? Might be a little more entertaining than whatever Mrs Matsuda’s been wearing, lately.”

Hiro raises his shoulders in a mild mannered shrug, and Tadashi takes it as a positive sign. Might not be vocal, but it’s communication all the same.

His aunt’s had the same television set for as long as he can remember; there’s a trick to turning it on, and he must’ve tuned the old thing thousands of times in the last few years. Between the two of them, they manage to get it on an old cartoon, which is enough to have Hiro settling back on the couch before aunt Cass makes an appearance, entirely out of breath as she bounds up the last few steps and into the living room.

“Tadashi! I wasn’t expecting you home until the weekend!” She practically leaps into his open arms, giving him a tight hug that’s returned just as warmly before pulling back to peer down at Hiro, who looks just about ready to be eaten up by the couch cushions. “Now; who’s this fine young man?”

Okay. Big moment here. Tadashi meets her expectant look with a nervous grin, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Aunt Cass, this is Hiro… my omega.” It’s the first time he’s said it outloud, and her eyes widen substantially, jaw hanging in disbelief as Spongebob cackles away from within his square, twenty inch prison.

Patrick joins in not five seconds later. A collective chorus of mirth that, in some paranoid part of his mind, embodies the entire universe, laughing in unison at the joke of a situation he’s put himself into.

“...Well isn’t that a surprise?” To her credit, his aunt manages to push some cheer into her voice, despite how high pitched it is. After making Tadashi squirm under the weight of a rather ferocious glare as she mouths the word _explain_ , she proceeds to ignore his sheepish little nod in favor of crouching down by the couch, offering his omega a hand. “Welcome to the family, sweetheart. Just call me aunt Cass; does that sound good?”

Hiro has to lean over to take her hand, and it’s inevitable, the way his body jerks reflexively as he catches a whiff of her scent. But Tadashi feels a fierce sense of pride when he doesn’t falter in taking her hand, completely caught off guard when she uses the hold to pull him into a tight hug, laughing good naturedly.

“I might smell a bit odd, but a make a mean sandwich.” She leans back, cupping his cheek in one hand, and Hiro reeks of intimidation. Tadashi clenches his fists in an attempt to refrain from stepping between them; flesh and blood or not. “Do you like chicken? Avocado?”

Hiro gives a timid nod in answer, earning an encouraging smile for his trouble. A lot of the casual wait staff his aunt had taken on in the past were omegas, and not all of them came from happy homes. She knows what she’s doing.

If he’s honest with himself, she probably knows more about how to take care of Hiro than Tadashi realistically could, at this current stage. And it’s unsettling to realise how that one, simple fact doesn’t sit well with him at all.

“Chicken and avocado toasties, then; nice and quick, hm? I’ll bet _someone_ didn’t even stop to think about breakfast this morning.”

He didn’t. Cass gives him a knowing look as she collects herself off the floor, dusting off her knees as she pushes past him on the way to the kitchen. Tadashi knows better than not to follow, feeling distinctly like he’s ten years old again; the one who’d stolen the class hamster from school and successfully hidden it away in his room for a grand total of three days, before his aunt had found a rude (but rather cute) surprise upon opening his sock drawer, one morning.

This time, at least, she couldn’t just insist that he _take him back to where he belongs._

“I’m only going to say this once, Tadashi Hamada,” A murmured warning, kept low enough to ensure that the television would keep the words from reaching Hiro’s ears. “But if I didn’t know you were a thoughtful, _considerate_ young man, I would be officially blowing my top.”

“But you do know me; _and_ you’re the best, most patient aunt a young man could ever hope for.” He counters feebly, layering on the compliments as he gets out three plates for her, setting them on the counter. Cass rolls her eyes at him, brow furrowing as she digs through the fridge for the necessary ingredients out of the fridge. He knows her just as well as she does him; enough to understand that she’s not really angry.

Just concerned. Gravely concerned, and quite possibly seconds away from attempting to book him into a therapist.

“Can you just...start at the beginning, sweetie? I only saw you on Sunday; this is…”

She waves a hand at him, clearly lost for words. Tadashi can’t even blame her, taking a deep breath before launching into an explanation of the past few days, Of finding Hiro in the alleyway, of the bot ring. His ensuing victory and his miserable night on the couch; completely incapable of not peering over the back of it every half an hour, only to meet eyes that reflected back an equal amount of distrust, if not more.

The story is interrupted twice; when he takes over a few toasted sandwiches for Hiro to demolish, coupled with a glass of juice that he seems to down just fine, and when his aunt ducks downstairs for a moment to tell her staff that she’d be missing for a few hours, if not the rest of the day. They sit side by side at the dining table, cups of coffee slowly going cold in front of them as aunt Cass alternates between watching Tadashi’s face, and looking at Hiro. The more he tells her, the more her expression softens, until he finally runs out of words to say, and she reaches up to massage the bridge of her nose between index and forefinger.

“Oh, Tadashi…”

“I know.” He stares down at the tabletop, idly stirring his now lukewarm coffee with the tip of his finger. “It’s been insane from beginning to end- it’s barely even started.”

“It really hasn’t, sweetheart...are you sure this is what you want?” She rests her hand over his own, squeezing gently. “You have a big heart, my brave man...but this is the rest of your life. The rest of his life, too. You have thought about that, haven’t you?”

“I wasn’t at first,” Tadashi admits, mouth twisting into a rueful little smile. He glances up at Hiro; at some point it’s gone from Spongebob to Scooby Doo, and the omega is dozing as a psychedelic chase scene unfolds. “All I could think about was how much I wanted to protect him. How easy it would be for someone to figure out how to beat his bot and...I guess I’m still thinking about that. It’s like every fibre in my body is hellbent on making sure that never happens to him.”

“Despite the fact that you’ve never even heard him speak?” Aunt Cass asks wryly. She doesn’t seem to expect an answer, and Tadashi doesn’t give her one. “Honestly...I wish you were a little younger, still. Then I could tell you to go to your room.”

And fix his mess whilst he thought about what he’d done.

“Actually, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind us staying here for a few nights. I need to get a fold out couch for my apartment so I have somewhere to sleep- plus, I can’t take him to school, yet. There’s paperwork I have to fill out to have him on campus, then it’s got to be processed…”

“Tadashi, I run a cafe, not a daycare.” Aunt Cass laughs at the slightly insulted expression on his face; they both know he wasn’t thinking of it like that. “You know, honey, why don’t you go sort out that paperwork now? Give yourself some breathing space; give _Hiro_ some breathing space. I know, I know- you’d rather just stay here until things are sorted, but...for me, take some time. Sort out what you need to, out there and in here.”

She taps his forehead, and despite the fact that her reasoning is sound...despite the fact that it would only be a few hours, max, and that Hiro would be in the most trustworthy hands he could ever hope to count on, Tadashi hesitates. His eyes are stuck on the tiny boy on the couch, in danger of falling onto his side and waking himself up. The one who, up until a few hours ago, probably didn’t have a last name. The one who still doesn’t seem to have a real age, not a single word having passed his lips.

Tadashi doesn’t want to miss him. He has a sinking feeling that leaving Hiro be in the cafe will be like a breath of fresh air to the omega, that aunt Cass could and would make him open readily, like a flower towards the sun.

He’s not acting...selfless, when it comes to Hiro. He wants the omega to be free, but he wants to be a part of every single step of it.

“...I guess.” He supposes. Assumes, would like to think; every step of this is a shot in the dark. He might not like his aunt’s suggestion, but right at this moment, he’s coming up blank on what else to do. Sit and watch Hiro dumbly until the omega wakes up and things resume between them the same as they have so far, or take the time to go and look for a much needed new angle. “You’ll stay with him? I’m sorry; the cafe needs you, but-”

His worries are waved away in a flippant gesture. “The cafe is right downstairs; if they need me that much, they know where to find me.”

As hesitant as he is to agree to this, Tadashi’s even more reluctant to leave without at least telling Hiro that he’s going; but that would mean waking him, something he finds a little abhorrent after the terrible night they’d spent in his apartment. The two conflicting desires war in his mind as his aunt puts their cups in the sink; then he’s being led over to the stairs, decision made for him.

It’s doubtful Hiro would miss him in the first place.

“You’re sure this is okay? I can call up; Hiro would be allowed in the administration office, at least-”

“Tadashi Hamada, you get your keister down those stairs.” He can feel his shoulders slumping, resigning himself to the fact that he was actually doing this; leaving his omega alone less than five hours after registering their relationship. It’s only Aunt Cass following close behind that stops him from turning right around and skulking back up, just to check one last time that Hiro was still on the couch, completely sound. “He’ll be okay, sweetie. Well-fed, but okay. C’mere you.”

Pulled into one last hug, he lets his head rest on his aunt’s shoulder, exhaling slowly. It’s fine. He’s fine. Hiro’s fine. But it still doesn’t feel fine.

“I know you don’t want to leave him...but sweetie, there’s a lot you need to figure out. I want you to try, okay? Not just for my sake, but yours.” She looks at him like she already knows something he hasn’t even thought of; a strain to the corners of her mouth that weren’t there when he first walked in. Irregardless of anyone watching them, Cass holds him there until he nods his agreement, and slowly, he walks out the door.

The strain around her mouth hasn’t eased even slightly when he looks back.


End file.
